


Emperor's New Suit

by Dangereuse



Series: Tomarry D&D-athon [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Possession, Tom knows how to bump in the night too, Tom licked Harry and all the other monsters need to respect dibs, Tom trying to scare people away from his man, mild body horror, sort of dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangereuse/pseuds/Dangereuse
Summary: “I know you’re not Harry,” Tom hissed. “So I’d appreciate it if you stayed right over there or this is going to get ugly.” Tom flicked his wand towards a chair in the corner, then brought it back to Harry.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Tomarry D&D-athon [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692079
Comments: 7
Kudos: 181





	Emperor's New Suit

“I know you’re not Harry,” Tom hissed. “So I’d appreciate it if you stayed right over there or this is going to get ugly.” Tom flicked his wand towards a chair in the corner, then brought it back to Harry.

Harry made his ridiculous frowny face, the one that made a small furrow between his eyes and scrunched his nose enough that the frames of his glasses sort of rode up into his eyebrows. “Tom, what’s going on?” He asked, sounding a little confused. He took a step forward, and Tom hit him with a stinging hex. Harry winced and drew his arm in, more out of betrayal than pain. “Ow, Tom that _hurt_.” Harry rubbed his arm, the beginnings of a pout forming on his face.

Tom didn’t falter.

“Tom, you can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” Tom said. “Now, sit.” He flicked his wand and Harry jerked backwards and landed on the small armchair with a small ‘oof’.

Harry crossed his hands over his chest, the position making his jumper roll up to expose his surprisingly delicate wrists and stretch the material across his muscled arms. “Tom, you’re being an ass. We’ve talked about this. Just because I’m shorter doesn’t mean you can manhandle me.”

Tom simply watched him with blank eyes and ignored him. “Now, like I said, I know you’re not Harry. That’s obvious. I just need to know if you’ve killed him and taken his place or if you’re wearing him like a little Harry-suit.”

Harry laughed, droll and dry like the sarcastic little sass monster he was. “Hilarious, Tom.” Harry shook his head and made to stand up, all deliberate casualness. “What a ridiculous--”

Tom knocked him back and bound him to the chair with a non-verbal swish and flick. “I really am insistent on you. _Staying. Put_.”

“Tom.” Harry took a beleaguered breath. “Are you sure you’re the one that’s feeling okay?” Harry asked, disgruntled, and he fought against the ropes. He reached into the pocket of his ridiculous cargo pants as best he could, attempting in his little Harry way to be sly.

Tom pulled out Harry’s wand. “Looking for this?” He asked.

“Tom. This isn’t funny!” Harry struggled, starting to get that beautiful flush that tinged his golden skin like a nice ripe nectarine from his cheeks down to his neck. Harry struggled, trying to get purchase with his trainers on the floor. “Give me my wand back,” he ordered, in that imperious tone that normally never failed to get Tom hot under the collar. 

Tom hummed, and put the wand back into his breast pocket for safe-keeping. He took a few steps closer, brought himself down near Harry’s face. He stayed out of range of actual touch, but peered close enough to see Harry’s pores, the gleam of his sweat. “Now, as I see it, I’ve done a pretty extensive search for my boyfriend’s body, and you look physically perfect, down to the way your bottom eyelashes clump together and that weird little not freckle behind your left ear. That sort of detail’s pretty overkill for most mimicry purposes and would require a lot of energy to maintain. My prevailing theory is the Harry-suit. I can’t fault your taste.”

“Ron and Hermione won’t let you keep me like this!” Harry struggled, jerking the armchair, but it was too heavy for him to shift off its feet. Tom had picked it for a reason.

Harry looked adorably cross, heaving and sweating and glaring hard enough Tom would normally worry he might strain something.

Tom shrugged. “Probably not. Their hearts are soft. Mine’s not.” Tom stepped back away, twirled his wand in his hands.

“Now, as far as I’m concerned, I only have one problem: you wearing Harry.” Tom tapped his wand into his hand as punctuation. “I’m afraid that’s intolerable.” Then Tom grinned. “But I believe in problem solving. So, if you let me know what you need to make a comfortable relocation, I don’t need to excise you forcibly and we can skip all the unnecessary pain bits that I’ll Obliviate out of Harry later. I’m good at those bits. Harry knows what I’m talking about, even if he pretends he doesn’t.”

Harry started to cry. “Tom, Tom. You’re scaring me, Tom.”

Tom rolled his eyes, and the little niggling feeling in the center of his chest died an abrupt death. He turned on his heel and faced the Harry-thing with a smile. “Oh please, I’m a sadist; I like it when Harry cries. I like it even more when I don’t have to care about making it better. So please, continue. I’ll save this memory for later.”

Finally the thing wearing Harry relaxed. It smiled, perfectly symmetric across the cheeks. A chill dropped down Tom’s spine, but he kept his face blandly smiling. He’d been Slytherin King for a bloody reason.

“What, going to offer to take your boy’s place?”

Tom snorted. “Dear Morgana, no. Why on earth would I do that? I’ll merely find you some other poor idiot to ride.” Tom leaned in, let his eyes flash red, bared his teeth in something that could never be confused with a smile. “I’m afraid this one is _mine_.”


End file.
